


Possibilities

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Clue (1985), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Community: intoabar, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 04:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucie seems to have a knack for attracting confidences. Perhaps she's just got one of those faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's What Could Have Happened

**Author's Note:**

> From the prompt: Lucie Miller walks into a bar and meets... Mr. Boddy!
> 
> My first thought was to admire the evil genius of the prompt setter, bearing in mind that the multiple endings of Clue leave some ambiguity, to put it mildly, about which of the characters actually _was_ Mr Boddy.
> 
> My second thought was to write that into the story itself.

Lucie Miller sat at the table and contemplated her half-empty glass of bourbon, wondering whether it would be better to finish it, or not. Points in favour of drinking it: She'd feel warmer, and less sober, and hopefully less bored. Points in favour of leaving well alone: She wouldn't have to taste it, and the Doctor wouldn't be impressed if she turned up back at the TARDIS hammered. Not that she cared what the Doctor thought, particularly not after he'd left her out of all the good stuff. 

"Take the evening off?" she'd repeated incredulously, once he'd come to the end of his hasty explanation. 

"There's an event crystalliser in operation somewhere near here," he'd said. Most of his attention had been on the stupid gadget he was tinkering with, not her. "You've been exposed to one before. It'd be dangerous to let that happen again." Lucie had begun to protest, but he'd carried straight on. "You remember the effect repeated exposure had on your friend Karen." 

"She's not my friend," Lucie had said. "So I'm just supposed to sit around in my bedroom all evening while you're out and about?" 

"You could go out." The Doctor had put down his screwdriver, and looked at her for the first time. "Enjoy the local scenery, and the night life." 

"Night life? You mean we're somewhere with night life?" 

"I'm pretty sure it's Connecticut. Or maybe Massachusetts. Somewhere in New England, anyway." 

Lucie had given him a sceptical look. "More likely to be Back-end-of-nowhere-istan again." 

In the end, she'd decided to explore, anyway, just to see if the Doctor's promises of night life had any bearing in reality. They hadn't, of course; they'd landed in some grotty wayside town whose entertainment facilities consisted of one barely-functioning bar. She'd been on the point of walking back to the TARDIS, when it had come on to rain, and shelter had seemed like a good idea. 

"You're a stranger here?" a voice asked. 

Lucie jumped, and looked up. The man standing by the table was tall, dark, and — she supposed — handsome. If you liked that sort of thing, and weren't put off by the five o'clock shadow and the faint air of smugness that hung around him. His clothes were black, of an informal cut. 

"Yeah," she said. "Why, are you the mayor or something and you want to welcome me? Or have I just nicked your favourite seat?" 

"No, just passing through." He looked her up and down. "You don't sound American." 

"Funny, that, isn't it? Seeing as I'm not." 

"Pity." 

Lucie bridled. "So I'm only worth talking to if I'm American?" 

"These days, it's hard to know who you can trust." 

"You think I'm a spy or something? Look, I'm from Blackpool, not Belarus." She leaned back in her chair, causing it to creak dangerously. "But if I'm not good enough for you, fine. Have it your own way. You're the one who wanted to talk in the first place." 

Rather than walking away, as she'd half-expected, he sat down opposite her. "Do you know who I am?" 

Lucie shook her head. "Nope. Never seen you before in me life. Why? Are you someone important?" 

"That doesn't matter." He paused, and seemed to come to a decision. "What matters is, right now, you're here. There's a business proposition I'd like to put to you." 

Lucie gave him a dubious look. "This had better not be anything creepy, or I'll kick you in the nadgers so hard your kidneys'll pop out your ears." 

"Oh, nothing like that." He chuckled softly. "I'm not that sort of guy. I just need someone to look after this until tomorrow." 

He delved in an inner pocket of his jacket and produced a small envelope, already stamped and addressed. 

"Here's the deal," he said. His voice was still quiet and casual, as if he didn't care one way or the other how things turned out. "I give you this letter and a hundred dollars, down payment. At ten tomorrow, you telephone me. If you get through to me, we meet again, you give me the letter back, and I give you another two hundred bucks. If you get someone else, or no-one picks up, then you post the letter." 

"Just that?" 

He looked her straight in the eye. "Just that." 

"So what's in the letter?" 

"Best not to ask, honey. What you don't know won't hurt you." 

"You call me 'honey' again, and I'll hurt you, never mind what I don't know." 

"You don't want to do that. You might end up getting arrested, and the cops in these parts — well, I've heard stories." 

"I'm not scared of a few bent plods." Lucie put her elbows on the table, the better to emphasize her point. "You said I could be a spy. So could you. How do I know that letter isn't going straight to Moscow?" 

His posture remained casual, his air of supreme confidence unchanged. "It's your decision, of course. And maybe a Brit wouldn't see it the same way. But what I've got here in this envelope could blow the government wide open, and there are certain people who'd do anything to keep it quiet." 

Light began to dawn on Lucie. "Right. So you want to make sure, if anything happens to you, the story still gets out?" 

"You got it." 

"OK. I'll take your letter. Hand it over." 

"There, I knew you were sensible." In one swift move, the envelope was pressed into her hands, along with two $50 bills and a handwritten note. "Don't forget: call that number at ten tomorrow morning. And if all goes well, you'll hear from me. And just maybe, you'll have saved America. I really appreciate this, honey." 

"Creeper," Lucie muttered, once she was sure he was out of the door. Maybe he really was trying to expose corruption in high places, or maybe what he'd told her was a pack of lies from start to finish. As soon as she got back to the TARDIS, she decided, she'd steam the envelope open and see what was really in there. And then she'd make up her own mind about what to do. 

A rumble of thunder overhead served to make Lucie's mind up. If a storm was on its way, she'd better get back to the TARDIS before the rain got any worse. Hastily, she shoved the note, money and envelope into her jacket pocket, downed the dregs of her bourbon, and headed for the door. 

Before she reached it, Lucie felt something twist inside her, sharply, as though something had caught hold of her guts and wrenched at them. For a moment, the bar blurred in front of her. 

"Are you feeling all right, young lady?" a new voice asked her.


	2. But How About This?

Lucie shook her head, trying to clear it of a momentary fuzziness, and tried to take stock of the situation. She was standing just inside the door of the bar, leaning on the back of a chair. 

"What happened?" she mumbled. 

"I presume you stumbled on that step." 

Lucie, still finding it difficult to concentrate, tried to size up the newcomer. He was dressed formally, in some sort of a dinner jacket, with a high-collared white shirt and a black tie. A neatly folded overcoat hung over his arm, and in one hand he held a bowler hat. 

"Perhaps a brandy is indicated?" he suggested; he sounded solicitous, not to mention posh enough to outclass a BBC announcer and give the Queen a run for her money. "For a moment you were positively pallid." 

"Thanks, I've already... Hang on." Lucie got a grip on herself. Of course she hadn't bought a drink already. How could she have, when she'd only just got here? "Sorry. Felt a bit woozy there. Y'know, that brandy sounds like a plan." 

"Be my guest." He ushered her to a table, then went to the bar and returned with the promised glass of brandy. "I'm afraid it's hardly vintage, but the chances are it'll still do you more good than harm." 

"Thanks," Lucie repeated, and downed the brandy. Whether it was down to the drink, or whether the dizziness was passing off of its own account, she wasn't sure, but either way she was starting to feel better. 

"Don't mention it." The man glanced briefly at the clock which hung on the wall. 

"Am I boring you?" Lucie asked. 

"Certainly not. But I have a busy evening ahead of me, and time and tide wait for no man." 

_That's all you know,_ Lucie thought. Aloud, she said "What sort of evening?" 

"The scheduled event is a dinner party. After that, I'm not entirely sure what turn events will take." He made a dismissive gesture. "But enough about that. What brings a fellow-countrywoman of mine here today? Do you live in America, or...?" 

"No, just visiting." 

"And how do you make a living?" 

Lucie said the first thing that came into her head. "Secretary. To a doctor." 

"That's interesting." He looked as if he meant it, too. "A confidential secretary?" 

"The confidentiallest. Why are you so interested in what I do, anyway?" 

He adopted an expression that might have been aimed at convincing her of his honesty. "I assure you, I don't have any sinister intentions toward you. I am a student of humanity -- but I do admit that my interest in you is more than idle curiosity." 

"Oh yeah?" 

He repeated the word in his clipped, upperclass tones. "Yeah. Would you be able to take care of a confidential document for the next fifteen hours or so?" 

"What sort of confidential document?" 

"If I told you, it wouldn't be confidential, would it?" 

Despite herself, Lucie smiled. "Point. So how do I 'look after' it?" 

"Simply keep it in your possession until tomorrow. Then call me and I'll arrange to collect it. If you can't get through—" 

"You'll give me an address to post it to?" 

"That's right." He gave her another close look. "You seem remarkably quick on the uptake." 

Lucie shivered, trying to dispel a momentary sensation of déjà vu. "What, you think only people from south of Watford Gap can spot something that's obvious?" 

"I hope I'm not being obvious, young lady. Then again, I wouldn't be the only one." This time, his disparaging glance was obviously at her clothes. 

"If you want me to look after that letter for you, you'd better lay off the personal remarks. I didn't come here to get fashion advice." 

"No, I can see that." From his jacket, he produced an envelope, wrapped in a sheet of paper. "Here. Keep it safe, and don't forget to call tomorrow at ten." 

Lucie eyed the paper, which enclosed not only the envelope but a number of banknotes. 

"The money's to compensate you for your time," the man said. "You'll receive twice as much tomorrow when you return it. And now, I have a party to attend." 

"Right you are." Lucie pushed the envelope into her pocket. Once the man was safely out of the door, she rubbed her temples, wondering whether she was developing precognitive abilities. At the first mention of confidential documents, she'd guessed — or somehow known — exactly what was going to happen, down to the amount of money she'd be paid. Or was she just feeling weird because of the brandy? 

Anyway, she needed to — 

Once more, the twisting sensation gripped her, and she sat back, clinging to her chair for balance. 

"Can I get you a drink?" the man opposite her said, as she struggled to remember where she was.


	3. And Here's What Really Happened

"Thanks, I—" Lucie broke off as she realised that the man taking his seat opposite her was the Doctor. And the drink he'd pushed in her direction was a tumbler of water, with two gently-dissolving tablets in it. 

"What's up?" she said. "Don't tell me you've sorted everything out already. You can't have done. Not in ten minutes." 

The Doctor gave her a troubled look. "Lucie, I've been looking for you for two and a half days." 

"You're having me on." She looked at her watch. "Ten minutes. Quarter of an hour, tops." 

"I thought as much. Of all the bars in this town, you had to walk into this one, didn't you?" 

"That's because all the bars in this town _is_ this one," Lucie said patiently. "What's wrong about this place? Apart from the decor and the furniture and the bourbon..." She shook her head. "Hang on. How do I know what the bourbon's like? I didn't even order a—" 

The Doctor patted her hand. "I think you did. At least, one time around the loop." 

"You're making even less sense than usual," Lucie said, trying to ignore the echoes of memory. "What loop?" 

"I told you there was an event crystalliser at work. You got entangled in the timeline it was weaving, Lucie. You've been living the same hour over and over again. Probably slightly different each time." 

Lucie shrugged. "Trapped in a bar forever. There's worse places to be." 

"Not forever. Now I've shut down the crystalliser, sooner or later the time loop would have started to come to bits — and so would you. Anyway, there's no need to worry about that now. Drink up and then we'd better get back to the TARDIS." 

"Drink that?" Lucie picked up the glass and gave its contents a dubious look. "What is it, anyway?" 

"A precaution. I don't know how many times you've been round the loop, but there may well be some residual effects." 

"You mean, if I had a drink each time, I'll end up with the hangover from all of them at once?" 

"It's a possibility." 

"So I get a hangover without getting whammed in the first place? That's hardly fair." Lucie squared her shoulders, downed the contents of the glass — which tasted of stale carpets — and stood up. "Let's go, then." 

"What have you got in your pocket?" the Doctor asked, as they made their way to the door. 

Lucie fished in her bulging pocket, producing a handful of identical envelopes, handwritten notes, and bills of varying denominations. 

"Dunno," she said. "Never seen any of it before." 

They passed through the door, into night and drizzle. With soft crackling sounds, the envelopes, papers and bills in her hand vanished into thin air. She checked her pocket and found that it, too, was empty. 

"Whatever that stuff was, it's gone," she said. "All of it." 

"I suppose it was some sort of artefact of the loop," the Doctor said. "I wonder what was in those letters?" 

Lucie put her hand to her head; the hangover the Doctor had threatened her with was starting to kick in. "Doesn't matter," she said. "Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't important."


End file.
